Halo Yeah Well Whatever
by Vash2002
Summary: MC doesn't feel anything -NEVERMIND- then she killed his brain, brain, brain, brain........
1. Masta Chief Think Aloud Too Much

I've never felt anything before. Sex drive hitting the 0 mile per hour mark. I don't feel anything down there. I don't feel for anyone really. I was castrated from my life at a young age. I'm a robot both emotionally and physically. I gave head to the commander, and I couldn't taste. Now I hear female voices inside my head. She is nice. She tells me what to do. But I can't feel her.  
  
Master Chief taps his crotch a couple of times.  
  
MC: Cortana, did you feel that?  
  
Cortana: No.  
  
MC: Me neither.  
  
I'm constantly reassuring myself that killing is what makes me dominant. They shoot me with consentrated beams of plasma, and I don't feel it. I see their purple blood leave their veins, I'm happy. Or Cortana tells me I'm happy. My suit itches and I deal with it. Cortana bitches and I'm sad. Or she tells me to be. I talk to Marines, they tell me to kill. I say why, they don't give me a reason. I think I wish to be put to sleep again, Cortana says I don't. I want to see her, but she says it's cold outside.  
  
MC: Cortana, I love ya.  
  
Cortana: I love you too.  
  
MC: Cortana, I love ya.  
  
Cortana: I love you too.  
  
MC: Cortana, I loooooove ya.  
  
Cortana: I love you too.  
  
Cortana explains to me that, covenants don't seek redemption, they seek damnation. And my rifle apparently gives these unfortunate bastards of faith, damnation. She says, I'm doing them a favor. I agree and kill every covenant I see, and rape their corpses, because I thought they wanted "it" one last time. Too bad I couldn't feel it. Hunters are mean, and strong. I'm scared of them, and stay away from them thusly. If Cortana were a physical being, I would be sucking on her supple breast right now. Lying in her arms, in a cradled position. She would be my mother, and the Hunters would have to respect that.  
  
MC: I love you soo much, that I'm going to write it in the next corpse I make.  
  
Cortana: Your soo sweet.  
  
I drive the warthog very well. I hit people, aliens and other things. The people don't appreciate it much. But I'm pretty sure, "AhAhAhA", is covenant for "thank you." When I melee, I melee hard. When I die, I try to swim. When I was young, the spartan commander told me that, when a baby dies during abortion it flails it's arms and legs violently. When you die, make sure to do that same thing. Pretend that, these covenant bastards just aborted you. So it leaves a haunting image in the enemie's mind. So when the enemy sleeps at night it will be on his mind. I start to wonder if the covenant are against abortion.  
  
Cortana: Chief, why are you just standing there?  
  
MC: I need a weapon.  
  
Cortana: You have one, Chief. It's me.  
  
MC: I don't know how to pull your trigger.  
  
Cortana: You do, you just don't remember right now. When that day comes, the day you remember, that's when you can feel again.  
  
MC: Why do "they" call me the devil?  
  
Cortana: Cause you give them what they seek.  
  
Both: Damnation.  
  
MC: Cortana?  
  
Cortana: Yes?  
  
MC: I want redemption.  
  
Cortana: You'll get it.  
  
MC: Do I have to kill anyone to get it.  
  
Cortana: No.  
  
MC: Good, cause my finger ?  
  
Cortana: Yes?  
  
MC: I love ya.  
  
Cortana: I love you too.  
  
The End. 


	2. Aneurysm

My name is Amante Da Árvore. Or the name I gave myself. It's forged out of the lack of individuality. It's a name not spoken by any. In the years of fighting the Humans, a Covenant resolve, I learn a bit of the Human's dialect. A dialect not used around my brethren. I'm a Sangheili. While I'm supposed to look the part of a demitting warrior of plasma absolute. I can't quite live up to that. I tower over all the Sangheili that accompany me. But my muscle tone is lacking. My skin is lightly pigmented. I can't get over that fact that everyone is darker than I am. I feel weird. I feel out of place. The only Human I've killed was out of fear. It was a terrible that day. All I could do was admire the trees. The Sacred Ring had beautiful trees. The Humans and even that of my own brethren's weapons tore them apart. And I stood back from the battle. I can't admire much beauty in this combat. But I can admire it in the trees. I dwell under them all day. And then I learn that the Humans try to think about the trees. And even made a day for them. This brings confusion into my head. I've always questioned my upbringing. But this brought more questions. Question in which would never get actual answers.

Elite Commander: Fighting is all we know. Fighting for what we know. Fighting for what we believe. The Humans rely on a demonic puke green defiler of the Sacred Ring. We don the shield he boasts. But we boast them better. He attempts to wield the Forerunner's Technology. We wield it better, for our Gods forged it. The very same gods, that bless us this very day.

Every time he spews this, I hide inside myself. I can't stand this way of living, this way of thinking. This demon they speak of, he looks like a whole other being compared to the Humans he fights beside. He resembles the strongest of their defense. But he doesn't seem too different from the brethren I fight a long with. The commander, he believes that these hands are only capable of picking up weapons, pulling triggers, and simply ending lives. Its not that I scrutinize their believes. It's just not mine. I believe my hands are made for preserving the lives of trees.

Amante: Noble Hierarchy of the Prophets. Prophet of Undeniable Chicanery, Prophet of Controvertible Creditability, and Prophet of Multitudinous Futility. The Covenant life I've been bestowed to live, is not the life for me to live.

Prophet of Undeniable Chicanery: This isn't the first time you've walked into this chamber with the very intent to inquiry the Covenant's way of delusive living. Did I say delusive, I meant equitable way of living.

Amante: It's not my intent to question I just….

Prophet of Controvertible Creditability: Then what is your intent? This questioning borders on heretic activity. Do you wish to incite riots amongst the Covenant? Do you wish to dethrone the Hierarchies? Do you want to see me die, is that it?

Amante: You misread my intents entirely, I only wish to…..

Prophet of Multitudinous Futility: Now you are implying that we are doltish? That we aren't commendable of these floating thrones? That we are prevaricating about the great journey, and that we sincerely wish to do away with the Sangheili in hopes to win the war that you believed ended with a truce. That your people gullibly accepted to be our body guards, but are ultimately dispensable? Is that what you are Implying?

I can't help to notice the other Prophets looking a Prophet of Multitudinous Futility with discontent. I can't help to think that he said something wrong. But maybe I've been listening wrong. I can't seem to find anything wrong in what he was saying. Futility looks as if he just let out a bombshell, and looks like to be in all the right motions of covering his mouth. As if he just told me something I didn't already know.

Prophet of Undeniable Chicanery: Futility, you damned fool!

Amante: It's not my intent to question. It's not even my intent to divulge this information that was just said here.

Prophet of Controvertible Creditability: Then please humor us with this intent you are getting at.

Amante: I simply wish to leave the Covenant Battle Groups. I simply wish to take care of the trees. Here, and on the Sacred Ring.

Prophet of Undeniable Chicanery: An Arbitrary Arbor? And how will this benefit our "Great Journey?"

Amante: Well if you grant me my wish. I won't divulge information. You can lead your Covenant down this fraudulent course of righteous. As long as I can take care of the trees. As soon as I'm finished with this task, I don't mind dying.

Prophet of Controvertible Creditability: Ah, so blackmail is your intent. The Council won't sit well with this. They wait and watch for us to falter. They want us to slip up. They are cutthroat, and will jump at the prospect to dissolve this Hierarchy.

Prophet of Undeniable Chicanery: The Council holds falsified jurisdiction over the Covenant. As we well know it's just a momentary resolution to keep the members of the council presuming they are in control.

Amante: If I may suggest an idea?

Prophet of Multitudinous Futility: You hold no floor above the Hierarchic. Your suggestion will not effect our tho…..

Futility is interrupted.

Prophet of Undeniable Chicanery: Futility, you have no grounds to speak, for you're the reason we are in this situation!

He looks back at me after scolding Futility.

Prophet of Undeniable Chicanery: Please divulge this suggestion you have.

Amante: Inform the council that I've acted in a heretical fashion. And rather than be put to death, I shall live out the rest of my life in disgrace, taking care of the trees. And of course, I will speak of no falsehood in the "Great Journey."

Prophet of Controvertible Creditability: The council is barbarous, they will assuredly demand that you be executed. And that your corpse be paraded around High Charity.

Prophet of Undeniable Chicanery: Ah, but surely word will get around. The Elites won't hold tongue against this. They will scrutinize, judge, and ultimately kill you for being a heretic. They will act almost as if they were obeying the dictates of the Hierarchy to execute. The Council will have their corpse.

Prophet of Controvertible Creditability: And the secrets of the Great Journey will die with you.

The prophets granted me my wish. A receptacle came from the wall. It opened to reveal the armor of the Arbiter.

Prophet of Undeniable Chicanery: These are slows times. Not much is necessary for this armor, when no arbitrary objective is at hand. We will accommodate with this armor.

I'm astonished. I've never seen the armor of the Arbiter. Arbiter missions are perpetually so taciturn and infrequently information is made heard by the populace. I walk up to this armor. I disrobe my own. I put on the helmet tediously. It's weird that is fits. I look at the Prophets.

Amante: What would you have your Arbitrary Arbor do?


End file.
